


Disconnect

by kesomon



Category: Green Hornet - All Media Types, Original Work, Tron - All Media Types
Genre: Crisis of Faith, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Love, Gen, Grief, M/M, Men Crying, Mourning, Original OCs, Panic Attacks, Platonic Life Partners, Van Williams Tribute, offscreen death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 15:03:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15221762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kesomon/pseuds/kesomon
Summary: Though it dwells on the minds of all programs, there are none who truly wish to know the answer.What happens if a program's User...dies?Kato wishes it hadn't been Britt to learn the truth.(A Tron!AU Hornet partnership fic based on Grid_Lined AU RP)





	Disconnect

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so: BEAR WITH ME HERE, I am gonna dump a lot of exposition on you.
> 
> This fic was started in November of 2016, in tribute to the late Van Williams, aka Britt Reid, the Green Hornet, partner to Bruce Lee's Kato on the '66 tv series.
> 
> The Britt and Kato featured in this fic are not them. Rather, they are a Tron-ified version of themselves, with much of the Green Hornet lore stripped away to fit them into Grid_Lined's community rules. However, some things remained essential.
> 
> For backstory: Kato is an Iso pretending to be a Basic, analogous to being Japanese during the 40/50's pretending to be Korean for his own safety. Britt is a communications program, newshound no matter what universe. They meet and become friends, but when Clu takes over the grid, they go underground, and try to devise both a resistance in their city-hub, Sentinel City, and a disguise for Kato so he won't get killed. They do this by swapping their code, muddling their identity scans, but doing so creates a bond between them that is basically soulmatey.
> 
> In their universe, they are both killed by occupation forces, Britt dying before Kato's eyes, and Kato soon after. For reasons of angst, Kato wakes up on the Free Grid first, taking a job at the End of Line as a DJ-slash-bartender and keeping to himself. Britt shows up later, sequesters himself in the comms towers, and does the same, each thinking the other is dead and gone.
> 
> (Eventually they both realise the other is on-grid and there is much crying and punching and rejoicing.)
> 
> I wanted to write this tribute to Van Williams and initially, it was limited only to the scene in the club where Britt feels his User, Reid, pass away. However, it soon became an examination of the faith in Users of Basics through the eyes of an Iso, and grew from there. It also explores lore of a possible origin point for the 'living computer world' and the link between programs and Users as imagined in Tron - the computers used in world war 2.
> 
> (Fun fact: the disconnect Kato mentions feeling, midway through the story, is a nod to the fact his own faceclaim, Bruce Lee, was dead long before his existence. Kato lost his 'User' long ago.)
> 
> Kato uses several terms in a non-English language, which is explained as kanji-ascii, binary used to form the pictographs of east-Asian language on a screen rather than English letters. This is represented here by the Korean language, a nod to the show's explanation of Kato's origins. However, it is all cherrypicked off of random bits of the internet as best I could find, and may be wrong. I will provide a brief translation of what I intended it to mean at the end of the work.
> 
> The named characters in this fic are all OC's or canon AU's of other Grid_Lined players, used with permission. Many thanks to @tanks4thememory, @infiniteviking, and @crystalshard for their assistance and beta-work. <3
> 
> I also owe a lot of thanks to Dynamite's trade comic, Green Hornet '66 meets The Spirit, which provided me a lot of inspiration to finish this and improve the relationship between Britt and Kato as partners. It's a really good read.
> 
> Well, without further ado: enjoy the story!

“Britt?”

“Hm?”

“What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?”

“Having a User.”

The silence settled heavily in the small quarters as Britt paused, processing the query, before he looked up from the datapad he’d been engrossed in. “Sorry?”

Regretting his moment of curiosity already, Kato felt his circuits flush.

“It’s nothing,” he tried to dismiss, flicking fingers in a [ _null-query_ ] sign and rerouting his attention to the data reports he’d been staring at for the past few nanos. But his eyes were already swimming, unable to focus on the streams of binary, and he sighed, tipping his head against the wall backing their small, shared sleeping berth.

It had been a hard microcycle. Commander Sen had increased patrols in their sector of the recently-occupied and re-branded ‘Sentinel City,’ stopping any program of suspicious intent. It was galling for the two programs, for differing reasons; for Britt, whose primary function was the free flow of information, it made organising the underground data movement far more complicated. For Kato, whose very identity as an Iso marked him viral and dangerous in Clu’s post-coup system, it made travelling in the open a heavy risk.

If not for the ident masks they had created, concealing Kato’s Iso heritage beneath Britt’s own User-built binary, it would be impossible.

Britt too had to be cautious. The circuit masks were crude and rough-coded; without a User’s assistance, the programs had been forced to swap code for code to allow the mask to work - and to avoid derezzing Britt in the process. As much Basic code that now hid Kato from the system, Britt had equal of Iso binary in his. Buried deep in the Comms program’s core, it was only noticeable through deep sensor scans - but it was enough.

Here, though, secluded as they were deep beneath Sentinel City in their own place of refuge from the Occupation forces above, those masks were discarded. Kato’s Bostrumite-green colours shone vivid and verdant, mingling with Britt’s Believer’s-cerulean and function-gold. Any small movement created shifting patterns of turquoise on the raw-textured ceiling tiles overhead, tiles Kato now stared at with bleak nostalgia. It put to mind the Sea and all its ever-changing, potential-laden data patterns, before the poison had corrupted it to dark sludge unsafe for any program, Iso or Basic.

He felt, more than saw, Britt approach and settle on the cot beside him. The bed dipped enough to lean Kato into the Comms program’s side; an arm patterned in blocky circuit lines and delicate nodes tucked around his shoulders, completing the connection.

“That face doesn’t tell me it’s nothing,” Britt remarked gently. “I’m not discouraging the query. I am curious why you made it, though.”

Kato was quiet a moment longer, but there was no dissuading a communicator from a story, and he blew out a forceful breath, caving beneath Britt’s patient stare. “I have been thinking. About...the others, in Arija and Bostrum.” His voice fell lower. “About Clu.”

Britt winced. “Ah. And, the Users?”

A reticent nod. Then, in a sudden outburst of energy, the Iso exclaimed, “it does not make _sense.”_ He sat up, twisting to meet Britt’s eyes, frustration clear. “ _Why_ should he hate us? Why are we a, a _virus_ to be wiped from existence? There is no rational calculation for it. I am _missing_ something.” At Britt’s curious frown, he slumped back against the other’s side, and heaved a sigh. “The only answer I arrive at is User Flynn.”

“Flynn?” Britt echoed with bewilderment. “What’s Flynn got to do with it? The last reports out of Tron City said he disappeared before Clu started his…” he hesitated, making a face, “...resource reallocation.”

Kato snorted; _resource reallocation_ , as if padding the language could make the reality of hostile genocide any softer. “Not what I meant.” He rolled his eyes upward once more, a grimace flashing teeth, unable to find a proper definition for the data compiling in his processors. “You’re Communications. You know definitions better than I do; not _Flynn,_ but _User_ Flynn. _Araseo?_ ”

Britt frowned for a moment, puzzling the difference. “I...think I understand. Not...Flynn as individual, but Flynn as concept. The concept of Users in general, as exampled by-” He paused. “...You’re trying to put the Iso-Basic divide into logical functions? Kato, that’ll only give you code-recursion.”

Kato made a face at him. “Too late.”

Britt’s amusement and sympathy echoed across their physical contact, comfort transmitting through the brush of fingers against bright green circuitry. “Okay, you have me intrigued. What’s the puzzle?”

Kato sat up, turning to face the other program, tucking his legs beneath himself, and leaned his elbows on his knees. “Basics and Isos, we are both programs. Flynn was approving of both, and an administrator as Clue is meant to follow their User. These are true, yes?” At Britt’s nod, the Iso sighed. “By these definitions Clu’s hatred is illogical. So I arrive at the calculation there is a missing component, something that Basics and Isos do not share. A variable that is yet overlooked because it is obvious.”

“And you think it’s the connection Basics share with the Users that programmed us,” Britt concluded, his expression complicated. “Hence...”

“Hence my query, _”_ Kato confirmed, feeling bleak. “Isn’t it? It’s the only thing that separates us, so it must be.”

Britt snorted abruptly. To Kato’s consternation, when the Iso looked at him, the Basic was clearly struggling not to laugh.

“ _Ji-ral,_ ” Kato swore at him, shoving Britt’s face with a palm hard enough that the chuckling Communicator toppled backwards on the cot. “If you’re going to laugh at me, you half-byte-”

“Hey, no, _no_ ,” Britt struggled back up and pawed at the other’s arm, dampening his amusement, expression smoothed out to something more encouraging. “I wasn’t laughing at you, I promise. It’s just, you’re _wrong_ Kato.”

Kato frowned at him dubiously enough that the Basic sighed, tugging his wrists forward until the Iso could be coaxed from his hunched posture. “Come on. Lay down with me, and I’ll tell you a story.”

Kato went, unresistant, until he was nestled comfortably against Britt’s side. The Comms program carded fingers through his hair in soothing rhythm as he compiled his thoughts.

“Cycles ago, in the beginning of all things…Oh shush,” Britt scolded, at his partner’s amused grumble about _melodramatics_. “It’s a story, not a bullet point list. Besides, it’s how the data was given to me, and I’m trying to be accurate here. It’s _history_.“

“As the story goes, there was a War. A terrible war, stretching throughout the User realms. The like of which never seen before, and hope to never witness hence.”

“In the midst of this devastation, the Users built the first System. And into this system, they wrote the first programs. These were the Calculators, and the Decryptors; they whose code we are built on, and without which we would not Be.”

 _A war that stretched throughout the systems._ Kato shivered; there were too many parallels already between Britt’s story and the reality they currently lived. Britt was clearly dwelling on the same, for he had paused, his gaze troubled as he watched the reflection of circuit-light above them shift and turn.

“With the war rapidly encompassing their world,” he continued, after a moment, “the Users called upon these programs within the system they had created, to help stop the violence - to halt the deresolution of Users. But because their need was dire, the Users poured all their power and will into the system, and the programs became aware.” There was reverence in the Basic’s tone. “Thus, the first User connections were formed.”

“The war was won, of course,” he assured, a bit lighter. “And it ended, as wars are hoped to do. But the programs remained.”

“The Users recognised the potential of the system they had built, of the programs they had created to act in their stead. And so they built _more_ systems - bigger, more elaborate, and wrote more programs to fill them.” He smiled. “And so, from the Calculators and Decryptors came the Data processors, the _Communicators_ ,” he nudged Kato with a wink, earning a fond roll of the eyes, “the Guardians and Integrators. And each and every new program since.”

“Every Basic, you mean.”

Britt turned and sat up on his elbow to better gaze down at his partner, smoothing the troubled look off of Kato’s face with a brush of fingers that swept a lock of black hair from the Iso’s forehead.

“ _Every_ program,” he enforced. “The code that shaped each new generation was _built_ on what could be learned and improved from the originals. And when we are de-resolved, our data returns to the system to be recycled and used anew. So, even _Isos,_ ” and he reached out to poke his partner’s collar, where Kato kept his Iso identifier concealed beneath layers of shielding, “share the connection.” His tone gentled. “Is that what this is about? Where you fit into the system?”

Kato gave no response, yet Britt sighed nonetheless, propping his chin in his hand. “This is definitely about that.”

“Can you blame me?” Kato rolled onto his back, lacing fingers together on his stomach. “I’m tired, Britt. Tired of hiding, of being afraid. Sometimes I wonder if Clu is right about it all.”

“Clu could publicly interface with a Bit that answers questions only in the positive and he’d _still_ be wrong about this,” Britt said vehemently. “You come from the system _itself,_ Kato, and the soul of the System is the embodied will of the Users. Despite our origins, we are exactly the same.”

“ _Not_ the same,” Kato sighed, reaching up to catch Britt’s hand and pulling it down to clasp against his chest. “If it were the same, then I wouldn’t be troubled by this. I can feel the system around me, as all programs do - but _Flynn_ , he was always very strange to me. Certainly there was no compulsion to _worship_ him. Yet if he was a User-”

Britt couldn’t help himself; he snorted. “If you did have such compulsions, I’d have to assume you’d caught a virus.” That made Kato sit up on his elbows, a puzzled look at his partner, who continued, “Flynn doesn’t deserve the praise. Not after what’s been done.”

The Iso smiled wryly at that. “Yes, but you are _sensible, nae hyeong_.” The smile faded. “The Basics back in Arija and Tron City loved Flynn. Even the other Isos-” Referencing his own kind abstractly did not lessen the sting of knowing he was, with all probability, the only one left. He force-quit the string and reformatted the thought. “There must be _something_ different about Users, for Basics to revere them so much. But I do not feel it. The system may be of the Users, but it is not _a_ User. It’s a clear divergence...and I think that is the connection I don’t understand.”

“Kato, Kato, Kato,” Britt tisked gently, grinning at his conflicted partner. “The only reason I’m sensible, as you say, is because Flynn may be a User - but he is not _my_ _User_. Thus, I’m fully capable of being objective in my opinions about him. The others, as you say - they probably didn’t have as much of a luxury.”

“There’s a difference?” Kato canted his head with a dubious look.

“Of course. Back in Encom-511, there were many Users sharing the system. If any of them called on me, I would willingly assist them; that was my function, after all. But Reid67, he was the one who wrote me, shaped my code into what it is. For that, we share a connection, just as the first programs did.”

Kato sat up, quiet contemplation in his gaze as he hooked his arms around his knees. “Then, what is it like, that connection?”

Britt opened his mouth, paused, and shut it again, pondering. “The connection to a User...It’s...warmth. It’s purpose, and confidence, and satisfaction, knowing you’re doing the right thing when all seems doomed to darkness, because your User maintains faith in you. They trust we will fulfil their will, even in their absence, and to the best of our ability.”

The troubled look was back. Britt cradled Kato’s chin in his palms, meeting green-lit eyes with blue. “You _have_ a User, Kato,” he promised with quiet earnesty. “And not _Flynn,_ who abandoned us here. My User has always been Reid, and now-” he pressed a hand to Kato’s core. “Now he’s _yours._ ”

Kato loosed an arm to wrap his fingers over Britt’s, hope blooming despite his doubt, as the Comms program continued with confidence. “You share my code and I share yours, you silly Iso, and that means we share Reid as well. Even in the darkest cycles, Reid has faith in us. And I have faith in _you._ ”

Kato gave a half-smile. “Even if it isn’t sensible?”

“ _Especially_ if it isn’t sensible,” Britt declared, and tugged the smaller program under an arm to ruffle his hair. “That’s what makes it faith. Trust me, partner-mine _;_ as long as my circuits burn blue, we’ll be just fine.”

_Just fine._

_Just fine…_

_Just-_

“Kato?”

“Kato?”

“Kato!”

Kato shook himself from his wayward processes, blinking in Ava’s direction. The EoL waitress smiled now that she’d caught his attention.

“There you are. What’s the holdup on those drinks? You’re not usually this spaced until you do your music panel.”

 _“Gomen,_ Ava,” the Iso apologised sheepishly, passing her the tray of drinks he’d been preparing. “My processor is clearly overclocked today.”

“Maybe have some of this yourself,” she teased, indicating the admixtures, and swept away to distribute them to their destinations. Kato shook his head and picked up a glass and a wipe, cleaning away residue with idle swipes.

He wasn’t sure why his thoughts had drifted. More so, he was puzzled that they would linger on that moment, long ago, one of many cycles spent sequestered beneath the city.

Though Kato had been fond of Britt’s loyalty to the User who had shaped his code, the Iso had taken little of it to heart for himself. There was no way of knowing if the stories and lore Britt expounded on were true - or merely data-ghost rumour, degraded and warped as it was passed down the cycles from program to program. If they were, they had happened long before Britt’s time. And if there was some truth to the stories, about the Isos sharing that connection, well...this Iso had never felt anything to suggest as such.

Sometimes, if he concentrated, he could almost sense...something...but there was a disconnect in his processor, one he did not like to examine too closely.

What he did know was that Britt believed in it. In a Userless system corrupting to red, Britt had worn his colours with pride, believer’s blue dominant over function-set yellow. He had no shame for his connection to his User, even now, when they were worlds away and trapped in a system ruled by no one master program, aeons of cycles removed from familiar surroundings and loved ones.

Britt believed, and that was enough for Kato.

When he’d arrived on the Free Grid, lost and alone, aching fiercely for the loss of his partner, it had almost broken the Iso. He’d retreated behind his persona of just another operations unit, a simple midi-handler with distributor’s subroutines; a combination not uncommon among leisure-protocol programs.

While he may have had an edge over the others, Iso nature offering a degree of adaptability, the Kato of the Free Grid never dared to trust anyone with the secret that Britt had died to protect. It had taken a long time, a few good friends, and reuniting with a resurrected Britt before Kato could shake the cycles of habit and fear that kept him masquerading as just another Basic.

But it had been a long time since Kato had felt the need to hide behind masks.

Now his dominant circuitry shone believer-blue on the End of Line Club’s signature white uniform, because he would never give up the faith he had in Britt. But neither would he ever again renounce his heritage. Accents and flairs of Bostrum green blazed alongside cerulean, an echo of his partner’s older, mixed-complexity array.

Across the room, the object of his thoughts was busily holding court among the friends they had made here in the Free Grid. The Iso watched his partner fondly as Britt swept an arm upwards, regaling some adventure of old to elaborated lengths at the End of Line’s bar.

Ossa’s bright laugh carried over the music, the scatter-processed distributor leaning on Cantus’ arm in her mirth; the fellow musician of Kato’s acquaintance had joined the party late, and his smirk held a note of confusion as he tried to pick up the whole story. Limned in yellow and sans-helmet, the hacker program Clu, an unusual but now close friend whom Britt was first to meet, gestured to refute some detail of the story, protesting with a wild grin.

Kato wasn’t close enough to hear the conversation, but the sight of Britt cackling like a beta, worry-free and circuits bright, made warmth curl through his code.

With a fond chuckle, he set aside the clean glass, reaching for another - and was struck by a sudden wave of dizziness that fled almost as abruptly as it came.

It was only luck that he hadn’t picked up the glass, for his fingers were suddenly shaking, grip weak and unreliable. He leaned against the counter and sucked in a breath, the fresh cooling clearing away the disorientation quickly.

Diagnostics immediately started running. When was the last time he’d recharged? No, that couldn’t be it, he knew his energy levels were stable. Perhaps Ava was right; a boost before his assigned set in the DJ’s booth wouldn’t go amiss.

Nearby, a bar stool clattered noisily to the ground as someone stumbled into the unsecured furniture. It was not enough to drown out Clu’s startled shout.

“Britt!”

All concern for himself fled as Kato’s head snapped up.

His partner was leaning heavily on Clu and Cantus, one arm clutched to his chest, the other clinging for dear life around Clu’s shoulders. There was a grey pallor to Britt’s face, his breath coming ragged and sharp. To Kato’s horror, as the Iso watched, those brilliantly shining circuits guttered, flickering into darkness but for a second before returning, the blue dimmer than before.

Kato ignored all propriety to vault one-handed over the bar. He bee-lined for the gathering, where their friends were helping Britt into a booth. A few of the club’s bouncers had already waved back those who hadn’t cleared the area, as was procedure, but Kato didn’t spare a further thought; his focus was on Britt and no one else.

“What happened?” the Iso snapped, worry sharp on his tongue as he cupped Britt’s face in gloved hands. The Basic’s eyes were glassy and dazed but, to Kato’s relief, they were lucid as they focused on Kato’s face.

“I don’t know, he just collapsed!” Cantus said, wringing his hands in distress. “We were talking and he paused, and then-” he gestured to the ailing program, description escaping him.

“I’m...fine,” Britt panted. “Just need to...catch my-” He cut off with a grimace, the hand at his chest clutching tighter, and sucked in a sharp breath. His circuits guttered again like a bad port connection, cerulean dimming - but not, Kato noticed, the yellow circuitry of Britt’s function. Another wave of disorientation swept through Kato, making his vision swim.

“You are _not_ fine, Britt,” the Iso chastised anxiously. “Whatever affects you is affecting me too.”

The hand not clasped at his chest gripped Kato’s wrist with a reassuring squeeze, before another spasm made the Comms program shut his eyes, a quiet whimper escaping between gritted teeth.

Nearby, Clu gave a sharp inhale, turned away and started muttering something to Ossa. The distributor nodded and dashed away, returning quickly enough that Kato barely registered her departure.

“Here!” A glass of something was thrust into Kato’s hand, pink and murky with a swirl of green that made an entirely unappetising mix of colours. It smelled strongly of copper and burnt ozone, but Ossa’s face was earnest. “Make him drink _all of that._ Eckert is calling the medics.”

Kato didn’t question her. Her memory was spotty for personal details but Ossa had never once forgotten the strings for the right energy admixtures to soothe ailing programs. He wrinkled his nose at the odour but helped Britt to tip the glass in trembling hands. The Comms program made a noise of disgust at the taste but swallowed, his circuitry regaining a steady, if not particularly luminous glow.

Empty glass discarded, Kato steadied his partner, as the colour slowly began to come back to Britt’s cheeks. But the gaunt, hollow look on his face did not change. Instead, it only worsened as the Comm’s program’s eyes drifted, staring off into space, sensing something else no one else could.

Then the Basic’s breath hitched, a sudden surge of loss-fear-helplessness slamming against Kato’s receivers, as his gaze zeroed on where his hand gripped Kato’s arm.

The blue saturated in both their circuits was _shifting_.

“No...”

Something yawned dark and wide and cold in Kato’s core.

“Kato,” Britt gasped, “ _Kato-_ ”

“ _Goyohan_ ,” the Iso soothed, reeling, almost overwhelmed by the desperation and fear that swirled through their contact as cerulean slowly bled towards turquoise. Dread realisation settled in his processors. The only reason for such a change would be if Britt lost his loyalty - or if the _source_ of that bond were... “ _Goyohan_ , Britt, stay _calm-_ ”

“I can’t-” the Basic whispered, half-choked, “Reid, Kato, I-”

“Shh. Faith, Britt, _goyohan_ ,” Kato pled. In his periphery, he sensed the medics arriving, but did not relinquish his grip. Only pulled Britt closer, hiding him from the system, from the horrified and confused eyes of those bearing witness. Britt keened, clutching the white of Kato’s coat. “I’m here, I’m not leaving, I’m here.”

He caught Wulf’s eye as the medic knelt, felt the pinprick echo of the stasis lock activated on Britt’s disk through their bond. The Basic’s presence in Kato’s sensors settled, the convulsive shudders that wracked his frame tapering off as Britt slipped into standby.

Kato closed his eyes in relief. He was still trembling from the backlash of the shift, and that was only a taste, born of the shared code that still bound him to his partner.

“He should rest for now,” Wulf said, voice low, and Kato nodded. “We’ll take him to a private-”

“No,” and that was abrupt, but Kato couldn’t bring himself to care. He opened his eyes, expression blank, but there was nothing but understanding in Wulf’s patient gaze. Softer, knowing the medic was only performing his function, he repeated, “no. I can...I can take him.”

Something in the barely-leashed stability of his tone managed to sway the medic from making further advances; Wulf nodded acceptance and held up his hands, then got to his feet and moved off to arrange for private quarters.

Cantus took his cue, and turned to shoo off the onlookers who had began to encroach on the cordoned-off area, whispering and gossip abound. “Okay, programs, nothing to see here. Come on, give them some space.”

The vicinity emptied like liquid from a toppled cup.

“What just happened,” a fretful Ossa wondered in hushed tones, tugging gently on Clu’s sleeve as they ushered the club-goers further away from the very personal scene.

“Disconnection shock,” the hacker murmured, looking grim, as he cast a pained, understanding look over his shoulder. “It’s what happens when...when a program’s User dies.”

“...Oh...” was her quietly devastated whisper, before Kato was left alone with his partner.

Kato closed his eyes and breathed out, slow and measured; he was no good to Britt if he couldn’t keep himself together. Stiffly, he uncoiled from where he knelt on the cold club floor, tucking arms under Britt’s back and legs. Britt was taller and heavier, but Kato’s slight frame held deceptive strength, and the nearest private room was only a few strides away.

Eckert waited by the door with uncharacteristic sombreness.

“You know how to reach me. For any reason,” the emcee of the EoL assured quietly, and Kato conveyed his gratitude in a nod, unable to muster the words to thank him. Eckert returned the gesture and tapped the door shut, sealing them off from prying eyes.

The room was dimmed, soundproofing muffling the sounds of the club to the barest murmur. It was a room for private gatherings, furnished with wide, padded couches;it was onto one that Kato gently lowered Britt, arranging him comfortably. Then he slumped against the remaining edge of the cushions, all energy drained, as he took in his partner.

Circuits once bright and blue now pulsed low with pale turquoise-green, in and out, with a standard sleep mode pattern. Kato ached at the sight; the blue couldn’t fade entirely - Britt still held his faith, after all - but without a source to draw on, the neutral white of unlinked programming had crept in, washing it out...letting spliced Iso code shine through.

His own circuits, stark against the white of his uniform, had returned to familiar blue. The source of his faith still remained.

He reached out to brush fingers through the limp strands that curled against Britt’s forehead, smoothing them back with care as Britt had done for him so long ago.

“Oh Britt,” he sighed softly. “Hang on, _nae hyeong_. Don’t give up on me; you never had the sense to before.”

The Comms program stirred under his touch as the sedation command began to unspool.

“Mmf...K’to...”

“I’m here.”

It took him a minute more to rouse, head turning to follow Kato’s gentle petting. Blue eyes blinked groggily up at the Iso, disoriented and confused, as the Basic struggled to sit up. But far too soon, that momentary amnesia cleared as memory banks spooled through active files, and Britt’s expression crumpled into bleak despair.

“Reid’s...gone, Kato.” Britt’s voice should never have been so weak, so lost and alone. “What do we do now?”

Kato breathed.

“I am of the system, and we are connected,” he murmured softly, reaching out to clasp Britt’s wrist. “Our circuits still burn brightly. We will continue as we always have.” Britt’s eyes winced shut, a wave of sorrow and loss swirling through their bond. Kato gripped his hand tight, interlinking fingers, green circuits against gold. “I have faith in you, Britt. Keep faith in me.”

Britt let out a broken, half-gasp of a laugh, as he too remembered. “Even if it isn’t sensible?”

Kato smiled, sadly. “That’s what makes it faith.”

Britt smiled, all pain and bravery, crumbling into grief as he buried his head into Kato’s chest. The first choked sob of many shook his shoulders.

Kato wrapped arms protectively around his partner and tucked him close, casting eyes towards the ceiling, where shifting circuit-light painted patterns of the Sea.

_I’ll watch over him, Reid. I promise this._

_You were, after all,_ our _User._

**Author's Note:**

> Words in korean/kanji-ascii:
> 
> araseo? - understand/comprehend?
> 
> jir-al - an insult meaning idiot, stupid, addle-brained, tamest I could find. Probably don't repeat it to anyone.
> 
> nae hyeong - my brother
> 
> gomen - sorry (in japanese)
> 
> goyohan - calm, quiet


End file.
